Delayed

My flight has been delayed. I should be leaving at 8:30 am now. This will give me a little more time to disbelieve that I am flying to London today. Instead of leaving under the cover of night, I will watch one more sunrise in Portland over the tail of my docked, but broken, Boeing 757. The tune this morning will be a kind Japanese voice over the intercom stating that Northwest flight 57 has arrived.

I do not yet understand that I am leaving. But like many things that I do not believe in, such as an orbiting tea pot, I will soon realize that the reality of my departure does exist. Perhaps this realization will come to me before I arrive at London. Probably not.